


A Bouquet to Withstand the Winter

by PleiadesWhispers



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, Pining, alright maybe a little beta'd, edit: a collection to be updated sporadically i said and it's been five months. sorry;;;;, mmmaybe?, more tags to be added as more one shots are added, no beta we die like me-uuuhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 08:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PleiadesWhispers/pseuds/PleiadesWhispers
Summary: A collection of one-shots, each based upon the meaning of a flower. Updates sporadically.Chapter 1: Lily of the Valley (Return of Happiness) | A reflection on old teachings, losses, and opening up.





	A Bouquet to Withstand the Winter

**Author's Note:**

> After drawing a fan art piece last month with Emil and Lalli that had some flower symbolism in it, and after thinking a bit more on it recently, I had the ~~(maybe)~~ brilliant idea of creating a set of ficlets using the language of flowers as a prompt. Unfortunately, I also have a habit of writing more than what really should legally constitute as a ficlet, but screw it. This is the rabbit hole I'm going down, and I'm not climbing back out. 
> 
> Regardless, I hope my mess for writing makes sense, and that you enjoy the story.

Grandma had always warned him about the blooms and their berries, since the first week she started taking him with her wherever her magic was needed. It was much in the same way that she regarded the necessity to keep one’s heart closed; to never mark yourself safe from the threat of the Silent World; to never give in to the voices that crackled and tried to break their way through. 

Really, though. That was the tone she took when she regarded nearly everything, if Lalli was going to be honest.

The lilies always bloomed early in the spring, when the sun started to visit for a little longer than the previous day, Grandma explained. It was a sign that winter was ending, and soon a productive, blessed spring would soon arrive. Little bits of luck were tucked in the small, white buds, tucked close together, each one hanging separately from their own little vine attached to the stem. In a few months, bright red berries would hang from the same stem, beckoning in any prey hungry enough to fall to the plant’s trap.

“They’ll kill you swiftly, and you’d be miserable in the short time it’d take,” Grandma chided him harshly that day, not hesitating in the slightest to grab the collar of his coat to drag him back to the boat, back to home. He had only reached out to gather a few blooms to take home, he wouldn’t even eat it, but she wouldn’t listen to him. “Be glad I’m not dragging your lifeless body back, child,” she tonelessly replied, and the conversation had ended there, as did his first lesson on the wild nature and listening.

Now, under the scattered light bursting in from the broken roof of a cabin deep within the section of forest the entire crew had reached, he couldn't help but regard the lilies. The building had long been collapsed enough that it would be a wonder that a troll could have both a functioning brain and make a nest. Somewhere, the others were setting up their tents for the night, preparing camp and determining night watch order before sleeping. They probably were oblivious to the threat of any trolls right now, and if they weren't careful, could probably be overwhelmed by one if one lurked nearby. But the birds chirping in their trees gave no indication of any close threat, and it was with an intention to take a breather in this allowed respite, that Lalli knelt down next to the flowers and tried not to focus on his task.

He had held everything in that he could, since leaving Denmark and returning to civilization. He was home now, as he had wanted -- but without Onni, without Tuuri, without the scheduled routine of Keuruu, it didn't feel right. He still wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that Onni had outright lied to him, and apparently had been truthful to everyone else around him. He still wasn't sure how to address Tuuri's death, and instead locked it away in the box with every single one of his other emotions, letting it dull down to a numbness that he dared not address. He didn't want to think about any of it; didn't want to process any of it. All he could do, without the presence of the expedition crew, was ground himself in this tiny little cabin, with this tiny little flower. 

It was ridiculous, too. They were far enough into the summer season, it was a wonder that this particular lily of the valley had managed to bloom. Full rows of white buds, that should have bloomed much earlier -- it was hard to tell if the flower was a sign of luck, or if it did not mean such. If anything, it should be full of poisonous berries to beckon prey. Yet here they were, rebelling from the course of nature until something decided to take charge. Eventually, something would; a plank would fall, or a troll would pass through, digging the plant up from its roots. All living things must meet their end, a fact that Lalli was forced to hold closely.

His peace in the ruined cabin was disrupted, and he hissed under his breath. “Lalli?” A loud call echoed from outside the fallen cabin, and at least it was a voice distinctive from the others. A voice he kept close, if only to cherish it before the flame to which it belonged could eventually flicker out, like every other one he had held dearly. He couldn't will himself to wish that it would disappear, back to the camp, free of trolls, where it belonged, as Emil called out again. _“Lalli! Var är du?”_

Lalli made no motion to rise, keeping his gaze on the broken windows, and the open door that led outside into the forests. The loud, Swedish words washed over his ears, though by now he had begun to pick out some of the words here or there. Months ago he had hated the language, didn’t even try to understand it, wasn’t even sure why Tuuri herself had bothered once she had learned that other stupid language. Then he had began to tolerate it. Tuuri looked so surprised when he asked her to teach him. Certain words, out of necessity. He couldn’t do his job properly, he insisted, and she obliged, but hesitantly. She never said it, but he’d seen Tuuri annoyed or skeptical enough before, he’d learned enough to read that off of her. Not that he’d blame her. He couldn’t -- he was surprised of himself, how he managed to keep the few words he had learned tucked close in his mind, and even closer after her passing.

He’d only been learning for the sake of his job, he insisted to himself. Tried to convince himself, every time Emil sat by him, or patted his hair down, or during the decontamination baths, speaking a rush of words full of warmth, sometimes exasperation, or so softly that the words might as well have been an unsung lullaby for a child. From Emil, they could convey so much, all while meaning so little, at the same time. Being able to speak to each other in the dream world wasn't enough; it wouldn't ever be enough, not when it happened so rarely or in the face of danger.

Another call broke him again from his thoughts, this time closer than before. “Lal~li!” Emil called again, followed by a hissed string of curses under the cleanser’s breath. “Where -- where are you?” Emil sounded a little more frantic this time, especially so now that Lalli realized that this call was in -- rather shoddily-spoken but audible -- Finnish. Suddenly that unmistakable head of blond hair popped into view from one of the windows. Emil’s worried face was another expression that Lalli had quickly learned to decipher after sharing a dream space.

Now that he thought of it, Emil was being too loud, calling like that -- any troll would hear him from afar. Would rush in, and would immediately be looking for food, without any disregard to if the food would put up a fight or not. Would snatch up the first thing making the loudest noise. Would probably snatch up Emil, if the stupid Swede wasn’t paying attention -- a thought which brought up a dreading sort of sensation in his chest, one he wanted to ignore.

_‘You should know better, stupid,’_ Lalli thought, ignoring the fact that the remark held some degree of fondness when spoken in his mind rather than any sort of bitterness, and he tried again to push down the dreaded feeling. It really wouldn’t do good for all of this noise to actually summon a troll -- or a giant, Gods forbid. That would be even worse, and he didn’t want to think of that possibility. At least Emil had gone through the effort of speaking in Finnish for once, and he felt obligated to respond this time, if only because of that effort. He tilted his chin up a little, and whistled as he had been taught to do by his Grandmother. Loud enough to alert anything outside, but quiet enough to not drift far, just a short sound carrying the message, “I am here”. 

That had immediately caught Emil’s attention. 

There were times that Emil sometimes reminded Lalli of those weird, four-legged creatures that Tuuri had referred to as “dogs”, that he had first seen in photos, then many more in the flesh among the streets of Reykjavik. Fluffy animals that gave their joy and affection without much prejudice, but they always seemed to have too much energy. With the way that Emil had appeared at the door frame of the cabin, hair askew after nearly barreling into the frame itself, giving a smile that quickly bloomed and shined like the sun, this was one of those times.

“Lalli!” Emil exclaimed, sounding nearly out of breath as he tumbled into the room, soon spouting out strings of Swedish. If Lalli were to actually wager a guess as to their meaning, Emil probably was concerned, and he was probably being scolded. Actually listening, and translating in his head at the pace that Emil spoke, would take way too much effort, so he disregarded the words. Instead, he turned back to the thriving lily of the valley with a quieting tut. Emil was still being too loud.

The stream of Swedish slowly died behind him, and soon Emil had crouched down at his side, surveying the flowers. “Ah.” Emil’s eyes almost seemed to glitter in wonder as he surveyed the blooming flowers, and he spoke again. Softly, far more slowly, so Lalli could pick out the words far more easily, and he let Emil’s voice cover him like a blanket. Something about how pretty the flowers were. Something about what Sigrun said. Something about Mora, and something about...

Oh. Emil’s hair was still a mess, after the way he nearly tumbled into the cabin. It was a little harder to focus on the words being spoken, when Lalli pulled one of his gloves off, and reached over to run his fingers through the golden strands. For a moment, Emil’s words wavered, his cheeks gaining a dusting of pink as he glanced sideways at Lalli with a surprised expression. 

Lalli’s hand wavered -- was it the wrong time? The wrong thing to do? -- but Emil was smiling again, speaking with an added strength, an added softness. He leaned back, just a little, into Lalli’s hand, and that was enough permission for Lalli to start brushing his fingers through the locks of hair again. Enough for the brief, momentary fear from before to clench in his chest, and his fingers to tremble in fear through the strands. He didn’t know what to name the source of the feeling. Didn’t know what it was.

Grandma would never approve of this feeling, regardless of its name. If she was here, if she had known, perhaps she would sweep him away back to Keuruu, out of the grasp of the expedition crew. Drag him back to the night scouts and their mages, back to the old routine he had thrived on for years; spent years adapting to. These sorts of emotions were distracting -- a sign of weakness she had always said -- and were suppose to be kept locked out of his heart with everything else he felt.

He could try to hide it, but back in Iceland, Reykjavik -- he had barely hidden it from Onni, and Onni seemed to know immediately. Had already shown it, in Onni’s vocal disbelief that Emil was his friend. Lalli hadn’t thought consciously of it when he followed Emil to go sightseeing, but Onni’s expression when he returned was a grim look he knew well. Although... Onni hadn’t immediately insisted on bringing him back to scout in Keuruu, and he certainly hadn’t complained either on the carriage ride to wherever it was that Reynir lived. At that time, Lalli had to turn to hide his smile when he woke up that morning, immediately noticing that Onni had allowed Emil to sleep on his shoulder, like he had allowed Tuuri and Lalli to do when they were younger. If Onni had truly disapproved -- if he had truly disagreed -- then he wouldn’t have allowed any of it, but he did allow it. But Grandma would never have allowed it.

He must have let some semblance of his thoughts show through in his face, because a hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped -- Emil, with those gentle eyes, and his damned heart open to everyone, stared at him wordlessly with a worried expression. Emil’s hand on his shoulder kept him still, and Lalli stared back at him, unsure of what expression to make in return. What expression to convey back to Emil. How could he show whatever it was that he was feeling, what he should do about it, how he was suppose to lock that feeling in a box and hide it away.

Then Emil asked him a question -- it had to be a question, by the tone of his voice -- and the hand on his shoulder, Emil’s hand, moved carefully, so carefully, to cup his cheek. Frustration bubbled within him, and that darkened fear from before seemed to amplify at the touch. It was like the fear and terror of making a mistake, like the night the troll had bitten Tuuri; the fear he felt weeks after that, choking on air as he felt her presence fade away. It weighed down like the mistake he had made just six, almost seven, years ago when those four men died. It was a familiar fear, one he thought he had blocked himself off from feeling so long ago. 

After Grandma’s mistake had been committed, nearly twelve years ago soon, he had painstakingly built up the brick wall around himself and his feelings, to keep people and the dreaded terror that followed them out from his mind. He didn't want to feel that fear, and he certainly didn't want to give in to any resemblance of it. The walls had done well to protect him from the threat of the trolls, from the threat of their voices. It had kept people out, it had kept the fear at bay and it hadn’t even crumbled under Tuuri’s attempts to talk to him, to “socialize” him, as she always promised she would. Despite her efforts, he had made that wall sturdy, he had kept it fortified, and it had served him well in return.

And Emil, stupid, empathetic, determined Emil, had somehow managed to tear down part of that wall, and Lalli made the mistake of allowing it. He took it down steadily, brick by brick, never pushing limits, but never stopping. Emil never came close, and always backed away when Lalli wanted him to; he gave his kindness, and barely asked for anything in return. Emil was determined to bring him back to the extraction point, safe and alive, when any other smart soldier would have left him for dead in their situation. 

It was so easy to accept his kindness, and Lalli had been so angry with himself when he almost shared parts of his past with Emil. With another twist in his chest, he realized, he did, anyway -- even if Emil barely listened, even if Emil could barely pay attention while battling the voices of the trolls that Emil’s mind could so easily succumb to -- he shared his past. Without hesitation, without remorse. Like an idiot, he had let Emil through -- and at the same time, he had allowed that fear he had tried so hard to keep out, flood in. 

When had he allowed himself to begin to care? When did he start breaking open the box of his emotions, and allowed someone else to take a look as to what was within? When would the effects of this mistake come crashing down upon him, and how much would it take away from him in punishment? How much would he lose this time, and when did he allow that fear of losing someone take hold of him again? Why did he let it?

Somewhere in processing this, Emil’s other hand had also moved to cup his face, and now Emil was looking even more worried. The Swede was talking now, his words such a quiet rush, and Lalli couldn’t bear to try to understand what was being said now. He didn’t want to hear anything of what Emil had to say, not when Emil was talking in that tone, not when he couldn’t understand. So he did the one thing he could think of, and moved his hand from Emil’s hair, to cover his mouth. 

The words died down instantly, and Lalli closed his eyes, drawing in a breath to steady himself and push away his thoughts by grounding himself in his surroundings. The birds hadn’t stopped their chirping, echoing over the faintest rustling of the wind brushing against the birch leaves, and if he strained his ears to listen closely, he could hear Emil’s breathing across from him. Then, the hands on his face moved -- away, he first wondered -- and suddenly, the sounds of the world around him were muffled as his ears were covered. He couldn’t help but let out a small sound, something that was partway through an amused snort.

Of course. Of course Emil would’ve drawn to the conclusion that there was something close, something close enough to utter distorted words and overwhelm him. Lalli opened one of his eyes partway to glance at the other, and Emil was sitting with his spine straight, his eyes darting between the open windows of the room with a serious, concentrated alertness. The kind that had taken the entire winter for the cleanser to develop. Lalli had noticed too, the time that they wandered alone, stranded in the Silent World without the rest of their crew, had beaten the last few traces of fear from Emil’s caution around trolls.

Or maybe not, he realized the more he looked closer at Emil, noticing that the fear was hidden. Perhaps it was to be expected, after dealing with the dusklings. Emil’s hysterics, back when Lalli finally woke up in his own body, was incredibly off-putting, and Emil still seemed a little unhinged when they reached the extraction point. It was hard to ignore the faint sobbing over the water when the cleanser took his turn in the outpost showers less than an hour after they arrived, but Emil had emerged with a look of renewed determination and vigor, hiding the sadness in his eyes. Now, as Emil stared out of the windows, hiding his fear as well as he could, maybe he was starting to learn the lesson that Lalli had learned long ago, of how to lock his feelings in a box where nobody could see.

Or maybe, did Emil always know how? He wore his heart on his sleeve, like any weak minded fool, but he still kept his heaviest fears and thoughts close to him. Lalli had seen that in the short time of residing in Emil’s dream world. The recurring dreams, he was sure those went unspoken. Could feel the underlying horror in the flames -- Emil said they wouldn’t come close, as long as he didn’t stare, but it was hard to ignore the underlying implication that they would engulf everything close if he did. There were nights that Emil was restless, and didn’t seem to wake anyone else, but he always brushed it off the following morning. Even at the outpost, Emil had withheld his sorrow. Always hid it with prideful words and soft smiles -- but the brightest smiles that Lalli had seen from the cleanser had always been in private, out of sight from the others, now that he thought of it.

Perhaps that was why it felt so easy, felt so natural to make the mistake of opening up to Emil. He never pushed for Lalli to open his heart, and only tried to offer what support that he could. Like now -- Emil wasn’t asking what was wrong, and wasn’t pushing, but he was certainly trying to help, even if it was a little misguided. Emil, in turn, would open up as much as he could across the language barriers -- maybe with a little of his own reserve, but Emil didn’t have any qualms about sharing. Not when it was with him.

Suddenly the fear that had been dwelling within him shifted -- maybe he hadn’t made a mistake, hadn’t shown his emotions to someone while throwing caution to the wind. There had been exercised caution, even in opening up. No, this fear was something different. It accompanied something new, but disguised itself fears that he knew well; it felt different now that he recognized this fear came from a different feeling. It would have to be unburied, and perhaps a name given to it if he thought of it, but perhaps another day. Giving voice to the feeling as he understood it, made his throat dry.

Maybe Emil felt that same fear too, he noted, when he saw Emil momentarily glance back at him. For that second, Emil didn't hide any of the fear in his eyes. But that glimmer of emotion was gone when he scanned the windows again. 

The sunlight streaming in through the fallen roof of the cabin had definitely shifted from the last time he had made a conscious note of it. Emil’s eyebrows were furrowed now, scrunched together as he looked through the windows, now looking a bit more weird as he did so. The situation felt a little ridiculous, like the lily of the valley blooming in the middle of summer, of all seasons. Lalli didn’t even muffle part of his short laughter as he moved Emil’s hands away from his ears, his fingers clasping around the warmth. It was a comforting warmth, one he couldn't hide from. One that felt reassuring, and dulled away the fear, the more he took it in.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, the Swedish words feeling so foreign to his tongue. But it was easy to remember the words that Emil had repeated so often to himself through the expedition, to each other in the dream world, to Lalli on the nights where the voices of his nightmares were particularly loud. “Emil, it’s okay. No danger.”

“Oh.” The cleanser’s cheeks turned into that unmistakable shade of pink, undoubtedly from embarrassment. What was there to be embarrassed about, though? Lalli tilted his head to the side, surveying Emil’s expression as the other shifted his gaze to the ground. Then in a second, Emil was looking back at him, and -- oh, Emil’s warm hands were cupping his face again. In a near whisper, with an expression that was both soft and concerned, Emil questioned, “Are you okay?” 

"Yes?" Lalli tried, but only received a skeptical look from Emil in response. It felt like the natural answer here, but he didn't want to explain himself. Not yet -- not while he didn't have the proper words to. He needed the proper words, but that would come later, when he knew how to properly address the feelings surrounding the fear of losing someone else -- of losing Emil. So Lalli gave a little nod, and spoke softly in Finnish, knowing that Emil would understand enough for now. “I’m okay now, so stop worrying. You should worry more about yourself.” He moved his ungloved hand to Emil’s hair, partially out of habit and to make his point, but the golden strands were still sticking up in odd places from before. Gods, what a messy Swede. 

Emil still stared at him, but his expression had changed, almost looking a little skeptical at first, but his expression changed again as he smiled. The Swede muttered something, but it was so quiet that Lalli was sure he wouldn’t have been able to comprehend the words even if he had heard them. There was something nice about the way that Emil discarded his own gloves, moving his fingers through Lalli’s hair in such gentle motions that Lalli knew he couldn’t match, but tried to regardless.

When they had finished smoothing each other's hair, they had put their gloves back on and let their hands rest together in their laps, sitting quietly in the shade. The sun had considerably moved since Lalli had found the desecrated cabin, and the light filtering in from the ruined ceiling had long since shifted, shadows darkening the room. They would have to leave soon, that much was certain, but Lalli didn’t want to move. In this space, in this moment, there was a warmth -- the kind that was different from the warmth of summer, from the warmth of saunas, from the warmth that came from the hugs that he occasionally allowed from Onni. It was comfortable -- the kind of warmth that could drive away the voices of the spirits so easily, the kind of warmth that would be missed only seconds after it was gone, and the kind that could beat even the most freezing of nights. A warmth that Lalli hadn't felt in many, many years; the kind of warmth that only Emil had began to bring to him again.

“We go soon?” Emil finally asked, and Lalli could huff in response, trying not to laugh at the cleanser’s attempt at speaking Finnish again. Long ago, Emil’s Finnish had been a nuisance, but now there was something endearing about it that made it tolerable -- not that Lalli would ever admit it. Not when there was the underlying sadness in Emil’s eyes that showed he didn’t want to move from their spot, from their momentary refuge anytime soon. The sun wouldn’t set for another few hours, but it was summer -- it would be bright even until the late hours of the day, and it was late enough as it was.

“‘Are we going soon?’,” Lalli corrected him, patting Emil’s head in a comforting motion as he spoke, keeping his voice leveled. “We need to. Unless the silly Swede wants to be left behind in the forest tomorrow, because he was too busy sleeping.”

Emil's face scrunched together as he tried to process the words, and for a moment Lalli feared that the statement wasn’t properly conveyed through the language barrier. Then Emil’s expression lightened in realization, his cheeks flushing pink as he stammered out a few words in Swedish. Most likely in exasperated denial, rather than anger. Good. It was hard to not give the slightest of smiles, as Lalli lifted himself onto his feet, feeling some waves of relief wash over him as he held out a hand to the cleanser. “Up, up. We need to move.”

Luckily, Emil didn’t need to be told twice, but he didn’t hold back his complaints as he grabbed Lalli’s hand. Lalli tugged, and in a swift motion, Emil was up on his feet. It wasn’t smooth, nor elegant, and Emil only caught himself from falling by grabbing onto Lalli’s shoulder for support.

(Oh, Emil was going to trip over his own two feet and break his nose falling on a rock one of these days, if he wasn’t careful enough. That would be a tragedy.)

It was hard to look at Emil directly in the eyes, not when they were as close as they were, but a quick glance up and he could see that Emil was having that same problem. Lalli instead glanced down to the ground, finding again the lily of the valley blooming from beyond a floorboard. Perhaps this one would remain undisturbed when they departed. Maybe it would meet its death in the maws of a troll, and that would be one less worry of a thousand. Or maybe, he thought, with the warmth still lingering within him, the Gods would bring them good fortune after all.

Gently, his hand was tugged, and he finally looked up. Emil had managed to back away a few paces, but still couldn’t seem to look him in the eyes. For some reason, there was a flush to the cleanser’s cheeks as Emil spoke, a little louder, a little more like how he was around other people than when he was just with Lalli. Something about he was going to sit back down if they didn’t leave soon, and maybe drag Lalli with him, if he heard correctly. The scout snorted, instead tugging back at Emil’s hand, and together they walked out of the cabin, into the sunlit forest.

Grandma would still disapprove, but Lalli wondered if this sort of feeling was something she truly knew of and experienced. Onni didn’t disapprove, but his approval -- if there was any -- was something that had come gradually in such a short span of time. Maybe -- hopefully -- he would still give it in the time to come.

With Emil’s hand clasped in his, their fingers slowly intertwining, Lalli decided that it didn’t matter for now. It could matter again when they reached the camp. For now, he didn’t have to let go, not from these feelings, and not from Emil's hand. Not just yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, raves, noticed typo's and whatnot are always much appreciated. Thank you! <3


End file.
